Chapter 32---Eliminations and Revelations

Carter tossed his jacket on a nearby bunk, removed his gloves, unbuttoned his shirt, and removed it. He instinctively tried covering himself with his arms.

Hochstetter forcibly yanked Carter's arms away from his chest and carefully examined his arms and upper torso. Annoyed at finding nothing; he turned away from the young sergeant who slowly put his shirt back on, and approached Hogan.

"I will be watching you, Colonel Hogan. Despite what General Burkhalter says, I still believe you killed General Metzger. The attacks on two of your men give you the perfect motive. I haven't figured out yet how you managed it, but I assure you I will. And when I do, Colonel Hogan, you will belong to me."

Hogan wrapped his arms around himself. He looked at the Gestapo Major with puppy dog eyes. "Major, you really need to get a hobby. You have too much time on your hands."

"BAH!" Hochstetter spewed, his face red with rage as he turned and stormed out of the barracks, followed by the others; the door slamming behind them.

Hogan immediately walked over to Carter who was zipping up his jacket. He put an arm around Carter's shoulders. "You all right, Carter?" he asked, noticing the young sergeant's face was red with embarrassment.

"I'm okay, Colonel. It's just I don't like getting undressed in front of strangers. You know that. I don't mind in front of you guys, but not strangers."

"I know, Carter, I know," Hogan said softly as he led the young sergeant over to the table where LeBeau, Kinch, and Newkirk were sitting. Carter sat down beside Newkirk. The Englander put a hand on his best friend's shoulder.

"You sure you're all right, mate?" he asked gently.

"I'm okay. Thanks."

"Do you want some coffee, Carter?" asked LeBeau.

"I'd appreciate some. Thanks," said Carter.

Getting up, LeBeau poured a cup of hot coffee and handed it to Carter who accepted it gratefully. The Frenchman then refilled Hogan and Kinch's cups; Newkirk didn't want any. Instead, he stuck a cigarette in his mouth, removed the lighter from his inner jacket pocket, lit the cigarette and stuck the lighter back in his jacket. He took an immediate puff on the cigarette.

There were a few awkward moments of silence before somebody finally spoke up.

"Colonel, what are we gonna do?" asked Newkirk, worried. "Old Hochstetter isn't gonna leave here until he finds someway to pin this murder on you and we all know it."

"Newkirk's right, Colonel," Kinch concurred. "Hochstetter won't be satisfied until he can hang it on you. And should he succeed, he just might use that opportunity to try and prove you're Papa Bear also. We've got to do something."

"Oui, Colonel," LeBeau agreed. "Hochstetter is focused on nobody but you and that makes him dangerous."

Hogan, who had been strangely quiet, let out a deep breath as he took a drink of coffee. He had heard everything his men had said and was digesting every word. It was true Hochstetter was fixated on him and he knew it. But he also knew the Gestapo Major had actually done him a tremendous favor. By demanding the men of barracks two to strip from the waist up and conduct an upper torso search, Hochstetter had proven to Hogan that none of the men had any scratches on them and that greatly eased the Colonel's mind because he now knew none of the men living with him had done this. But he still suspected LeBeau and Carter were hiding something from him, and that still concerned Hogan.

"Colonel?" asked Newkirk, concerned when Hogan's eyes took on a faraway look. "Are you all right?"

Hogan looked at his men. "I'm fine, Newkirk," he replied with a faint grin. "I was just thinking."

"About what, sir?" the Englander asked taking a long drag on his cigarette.

"About who might have killed Metzger and how we're going to find out. As embarrassing as it was to have Hochstetter making me undress from the waist up and pawing me looking for scratches, then having all the men in this barracks do the same, he at least eased my mind about one thing."

"Oh?" Kinch looked mystified. "And what would that be, Colonel?"

"It proved to me that nobody in this barracks killed that bastard."

The men all looked at each other, understanding their commanding officer's relief.

"Oui," LeBeau agreed. "Whoever thought a filthy Gestapo Bosche would do something good."

"Y'know, something just occurred to me," Hogan said with eyes narrowing. "Metzger had an accomplice who was going to testify against me if he had sent that doctored photo and negative to London. I wonder where he's been the entire time?"

"You mean Skyhawk, Colonel?" asked Carter.

"Exactly, Carter," Hogan replied. "But I have a problem with it. If it were him, how would he get into the camp? I mean, there were no new guards in camp, and everyone who should've been here was here. There were no new prisoners brought here. Nobody sneaked in through any of our tunnels because we would have known it. So again I ask, if Skyhawk did kill Metzger, how did he get into the camp?"

"Could he have bribed one of the guards perhaps?" Newkirk offered.

Hogan tilted his head slightly as if considering it. "It's a possibility, sure. In fact, I think it's something we should look into. I mean, the only way we're going to get rid of Hochstetter and his goon squad is to find out ourselves who killed Metzger. The sooner we can prove who killed him, the sooner the Gestapo will be outta here." Hogan glanced at Newkirk. "Newkirk, if we can get Hochstetter outta camp for a few hours tonight, do you think you and LeBeau could get a look at the guards personnel files and see if there are any prospects?"

"Just leave it to me, sir. That bloody bastard broke me left hand. Fortunately, I'm right handed."

"Shall I bring the camera, Colonel?" asked LeBeau.

"Yes. We don't want a lot of files missing."

"It'll be done, mon Colonel," said LeBeau.

"Good. Kinch, after evening roll call, get on the switchboard and phone Klink's office. Ask for Hochstetter. Tell him the Gestapo in Hammelburg informed them he was investigating Metzger's death and the Gestapo in Düsseldorf is holding a possible suspect in the death of Metzger for questioning and would appreciate him coming to Gestapo headquarters in Düsseldorf to question him. You know the drill."

"I'll take care of it, Colonel," said Kinch.

"Newkirk, LeBeau, as soon as Hochstetter leaves, you two get into Klink's office and get out quickly. Don't waste any time. Got it?"

"Got it, sir," Newkirk replied.

"Good," Hogan replied then finished his coffee. "I'll be in my quarters. Oh, before I forget. Carter, there's something I need to discuss with you so give me a few minutes and then come to my quarters." Hogan got to his feet and started to leave when Carter's voice stopped him.

"Colonel, did I do something wrong?" he asked the nervousness obvious in his voice.

Hogan looked back with a grin. "No, Carter. You didn't do anything wrong. Trust me. I just have something to discuss with you." Hogan then walked away and went into his quarters, closing the door.

Carter appeared extremely nervous and fidgeted on the bench. Was it possible the Colonel knew? No, it wasn't possible. There was no way the Colonel could know.

"What's the matter, Andrew?" Newkirk asked. "You look like you've seen a ruddy ghost. The Gov'nor said you didn't do anything wrong, so why don't you just find out what he wants to talk to you about."

"Newkirk's right," Kinch agreed. "The Colonel probably wants to discuss something about some explosives he might need."

Hearing the word explosives, Carter paled. He felt so guilty keeping a secret from Colonel Hogan.

"Andrew, what's wrong?" asked Kinch, suddenly worried. "You look scared to death. Go talk to Colonel Hogan."

Nodding slowly, Carter slowly got up and approached his commanding officer's quarters and with some hesitation, knocked on the door. He opened it upon hearing Hogan's request to enter. Carter nervously stood in the doorway, staring at his commanding officer. Hogan, seated on his lower bunk, smiled at him affectionately.

"Carter, close the door and have a seat," Hogan motioned to the chair at his desk.

"Yes, sir, Colonel," Carter replied closing the door. He grabbed the chair at the desk, turned it around, and sat down, facing the Colonel. He clasped his hands nervously.

Hogan sensed his young sergeant's nervousness. "Carter, don't be nervous."

"I'm sorry, Colonel, I just don't know what you want to see me about."

Hogan clasped his hands between his knees and looked Carter in the eyes. "Carter, I want you to tell me what you were going to do if Kinch and I hadn't come back last night."

"Do, sir?"

"Carter, I'm not angry. I've been watching you since Newkirk got injured. You became quiet and withdrawn. Then when Baker was injured, you became even more quiet and withdrawn. Talk to me, please. I promise you I am not angry."

Carter swallowed the imaginary lump in his throat. "I'm sorry, Colonel. When Metzger attacked you the first time, it made me mad. When he attacked Newkirk, I felt bad because I couldn't do anything to stop it. Then, he attacked you in Klink's office, and I got scared. I thought he was gonna kill you. And then when he attacked Sergeant Baker, it seemed like you might not be able to stop him. Then last night, when you went out alone to meet with Metzger, and Kinch followed you, I got scared both of you might not come back and that Metzger would, and there'd be nobody to stop him."

"So what did you do, Carter?" asked Hogan gently.

"I started preparing a bomb I would plant in the guest quarters. I was gonna blow that, that Kraut to kingdom come. But I wouldn't have done anything if you and Kinch returned. It would have been done only if you and Kinch didn't return. But when you both came back, I dismantled the bomb." Carter hung his head. "I'm sorry, Colonel."

"Carter, look at me."

Carter looked up into his CO's face.

"Carter, I told you I'm not angry. I suspected you were withholding something from me. I understand how you felt, and I'm sorry you believed you had to do something to protect your friends. I'm just glad you didn't go through with it because it could have endangered our entire operation if you had. That's why I didn't want Metzger killed in camp."

"Are you gonna kick me off the team, sir?" Carter asked quietly.

"Carter, my boy," Hogan said standing up. Carter stood up as well. Hogan put an arm around the young man's shoulders and walked him towards the door. "You are still a member of this team. Just promise me should you ever feel this way again, you would come and talk to me. I would much rather you talk to me than do something stupid."

"I promise, Colonel." A wide smile broke out on Carter's boyish face. "Gee, I thought you'd be furious with me."

"I'm not. Just keep in mind what I said." He opened the door.

"I will, boy. I mean Colonel. Thank you, sir." Still smiling, Carter turned and walked back into the common area. He felt so much better. Not only because Hogan knew the truth, but wasn't angry or disappointed in him.

It was later that afternoon Hogan had walked across the compound on his way to the infirmary. He wanted to check on Sergeant Baker. As he entered, he noticed Wilson seated beside Baker's bed. Wilson looked up when he saw his commanding officer approach. Hogan sat down in an empty chair on the other side of Baker's bed. Baker was still unconscious and the ice pack was still on his one eye.

"How's he doing, Joe?" asked Hogan, deeply concerned.

"Baker's holding his own so far. He's just had an antibiotic and a painkiller, and I was about to change his bandages. In a way I'm glad you're here, Colonel. When I finish with Sergeant Baker, I want to examine your throat."

Hogan sighed but didn't argue. He had expected not to get away with not being examined himself when he walked in. He just watched Wilson as he put fresh bandages on the bed and rolled up his sleeves. He then proceeded to change the soiled bandages.

The Colonel's eyes suddenly widened in stunned surprise and his mouth hung open. He rubbed his eyes with his hand and looked again, but nothing had changed. It was then that Hochstetter's words came back to him.

'Fresh blood was found beneath three of General Metzger's fingernails on each hand indicating he fought for his life and scratched whoever killed him.'

Present on the back of both of Wilson's arms between the wrists and elbows, were three rows of very deep and ugly scratches. And they were very red and obviously very fresh.